by Hilary Barta
The lineup in Texas is loaded,
Most bullpens they face look corroded
The men on the mound
just can’t pitch around
and soon find that their bats have exploded.
ITEM: ADRIAN GONZALEZ ENDORSES YASIEL PUIG FOR FINAL ALL-STAR SPOT
By Stuart Shea
A-Gon said to Yasiel Puig,
“Go to the game! You’ll be glad you did.
You can have fun and hang with the guys,
And I’ll spend time with my wife and kid.”
Yankees – Orioles, July 7, 2013
By Stephen Jones
Yankee Stadium – a heat wave is shimmering.
It’s July and baseball. The air is oppressive –
thick, almost strangled – on the field and off.
But the fans are loyal. They are as thick as
cotton candy in the sun-bleached stands.
It’s Sunday, Game 3 against the O’s.
Will the surging Yankees sweep?
(Of late, before the break, they’re playing
winning baseball with every-inning effort.)
The game seesawed, the play well-matched.
The 9th inning arrived like clockwork
and expectations rippled through the seats.
The stadium air felt lighter, less stagnant,
as if by an off-shore breeze freshened.
Mariano Rivera had taken the mound.
But like a great wave fan expectation crested
far too soon. It broke, crumbled. “The Sandman”
had blown a second save this year. He watched,
mouth open, as a homer sailed over center field.
The air which had been held suspended fell.
It collapsed in the stadium in disbelief.
“Baseball Nation” by Tony Lewis
From Lewis’ album, Heartline, which can be purchased here.
Poem on Lou Gehrig’s Award
by John Kiernan
On this date in 1939, the Yankees held a special ceremony to bid farewell to one of the greatest players in history. This poem was inscribed on the trophy they presented to the Iron Horse that day.
We’ve been to the wars together;
We took our foes as they came;
And always you were the leader,
And ever you played the game.
Idol of cheering millions,
Records are yours by sheaves;
Iron of frame they hailed you
Decked you with laurel leaves.
But higher than that we hold you,
We who have known you best;
Knowing the way you came through
Every human test.
Let this be a silent token
Of lasting Friendship’s gleam,
And all that we’ve left unspoken;
Your Pals of the Yankees Team.